The Once and Future King
by Vive Moi Pas le Roi
Summary: Arthur has died, but Merlin knows he will one day return. He awaits the day where he will once again journey alongside the noble king, his best friend. He awaits Albion and the return of Camelot itself and he ponders what dangers the future might hold.
1. Ils Dorment

Prologue: Ils Dorment

Merlin watches his best friend drift out of sight, the flames licking at his body. He has failed and Arthur is dead. He stands there and he stares, rivulets of tears flowing down his cheeks. It is only when Arthur is entirely out of sight—only smoke is visible anymore— that he resigns himself to return to Camelot. Guinevere must know and it seems only fitting that he should tell her; Guinevere is, perhaps, the only person as dedicated to Arthur as himself. She must be informed and he must do it.

He is somewhat aware that his feet are now moving in the direction of Camelot, though he's not sure it's of his own volition. A notion occurs to him, a plan: Arthur will return one day, when he is needed. It is prophesised, it will be. But what of Camelot? Is he to let it fall to ruin as the years go by? He cannot. He will not. He knows what he must do.

Before he realises it, the kingdom is before him. Then he's on the steps of the palace and, suddenly, is now in the throne room. All this he only dimly perceives.

Gwen is in front of him; she has been waiting. She looks up at him hopefully, her eyes begging him to tell her that everything is all right, that Arthur is somewhere safe and that he is healing, that he'll survive. All of these reassurances she asks of him with naught but a look. She looks back and forth between his eyes, searching for an answer, praying for that glimmer of hope that is so often in Merlin's eyes; but when he offers no response, no comforting words, she knows the truth. Arthur... Her Arthur is dead.

"No..." She whispers, "Please... Please, no..." She buries her face in her hands and begins to cry. Merlin encompasses her in his arms as she cries. He strokes her hair gently.

" _Codladh ar feadh tamaill, gach_." Merlin murmurs, his eyes flashing gold. Gwen becomes limp in his arms and he lifts her, carrying her to Arthur's chambers and laying her on the bed. " _Tá tú an eochair._ " He incants as he brushes the hair back from her forehead.

One day, there will begin rumours, tales of a beauty asleep, though these stories will become corroded. The queen will become a princess, waiting for her prince (no longer a king) to save her. Merlin will laugh at this, will laugh at the tale Charles Perrault will spin. It will amuse him immensely before that great sorrow will creep back into his lined face.

He whispers a goodbye and makes sure she will be comfortable before leaving the room.

As he walks through the halls, he sees the knights who had been on guard slumped against the wall, fast asleep. He sees more of this on his way to Gaius's quarters. There, in his chair, the physician is deeply asleep, mouth hanging open slightly. Merlin walks over and lifts him, too, and puts him to bed. He carefully pushes his mouth closed. No need for dry mouth, he thinks. He kisses Gaius's forehead reverently.

"I'll see you when you wake." He promises the man who has always been like a father to him, ever since the day he first arrived in Camelot. He blinks back tears and touches the physician's hand for a moment, "See you later, Gaius." His eyes are wet and his voice trembles . He forces himself from the quarters before the tears will flow in earnest.

After a quick check to confirm that the whole kingdom sleeps, he walks to the horses' stable. They are awake, for the spell is meant only for humans residing there. He chooses a white mare, takes her by her reins, and leaves the enclosure of the kingdom. He gazes at Camelot for a moment, remembering all that he has experienced there. The joys, the sorrows... All of that will be put on hold. It is goodbye, Merlin thinks, but not forever. I will see them again.

" _Ní bheidh Am dochar_." He breathes, thus protecting and hiding the kingdom from time. To all in Merlin's time, it will stand proud and tall; they will see it and they will remember what has transpired. They may explore, but Merlin has insured that no harm can come. To future generations... They will see only a vast, impenetrable forest and those who enter (for they can see Camelot, still) will appear only to enter the forest. Future generations will not enter, for approaching will fill them with dread and unease. Time will not touch Camelot, nor those who live there. Camelot will remain asleep.

This done, he mounts the mare and rides off into the forest.


	2. La Chute

1\. La Chute

Apart from returning once the day after his departure to free the animals contained in the kingdom, Merlin does not visit Camelot. The memories there are too painful for him to bear because everywhere he looks, he sees ghost of Arthur. An Arthur training the knights, an Arthur walking through the marketplace, an Arthur in his chambers, an Arthur sleeping next to Guinevere. He recalls his first encounter with Arthur, as he rides through the forest. Of course, he didn't know then— how could he have known? Such a prat back then, Merlin thinks, though that never did change. Not really.

And so, the years roll by. Merlin adopts his druid name for awhile in the 1200s for a change of pace. He hears of King John being excommunicated by the Pope, of the Magna Carta. None of this interests him; he still waits. He often finds himself wondering how long he should have to wait, and the one thought that refuses to leave him: how long should he be alone? What sense is there in making friendships, forming relationships when they will all die while he continues to live? He supposes that he could always restore his youth with a spell and age alongside others until they die and he must start over, but why put himself through that agony of loss. He is so afraid of death, that he fears living.

Perhaps, he thinks to himself, perhaps Arthur will return in another place. Perhaps he will return far away, across the world.

And so, Merlin resolves to travel.

The 1300s see him in France. He is there for the death of King Philip IV and the succession of his son, Louis X. He is still there when Louis X dies and the crown is passed to his brother, Philip V until Louis's son, John I, is born. He, too, dies, and after only five days, so Philip remains on the throne... So many deaths, Merlin remarks to himself, their kings keep dying. He decides he doesn't care for France in this century, and so he moves on once again.

Having heard of the arrival of the Black Death, he does not return to England. Instead, he journeys to Sweden and remains there well into the 1400s, but leaves shortly after the Battle of Brunkeberg begins. So much fighting, always there is fighting, he thinks. Unnecessary bloodshed. Kingdoms falling and new kingdoms rising from their ashes.

He meets Mary, Queen of Scots once during the 1500s in the years between her returning from France to Scotland and her fleeing to England. He later hears of her death and is remained untouched by it.

It is in the 1600s that Merlin falls into a depression. He has no one and it must remain so. He longs for the days when he would ride with Arthur or joke with Gwaine. He misses eating supper with Gaius and he even misses being a servant. So long ago are the days when I was relevant! he thinks as he sheds a few tears. I am not needed anymore. Perhaps it will be sometime before I am needed again. Thus, feeling sentimental, Merlin returns to England as, once again, a young man. He has shed his old exterior and is now only old in soul and in heart. The politics in the country do not interest him (so what if King James VI of Scotland becomes King James I of England? What does it matter in the long run? Soon they will all be dead and it will have made no lasting difference, Merlin knows this; he has seen it all before).

He contemplates visiting Camelot, which now only he can see. It exists for him only. He had been so determined to stay clear for he knew he would want to remain there forever. Is it worth it to go, he asks himself, when I'll only have to tear myself away once more? An internal struggle for the no-longer-young warlock. Sure, he might feel better in the moment, but in the long run (and he's sure it will be a long run)? Would it only hurt more? He feels as though it would. No, he decides, I must not, though I could... The 1700s see much of this internal debate, but ultimately he decides that, much like Arthur, it is not yet his time to return.

By the 1800s, he is sure that he is the only one of his kind left. He has not sensed magic in a very long time. There was that one time in Ireland in 1598, he recalls. Perhaps there may be others and I have forgotten. Though age has scarcely touched him in anyway other than appearance, it is naturally difficult to remember all that occurs over the course of hundreds of years. Remaining in England, he decides in lieu of visiting Camelot, perhaps he will have a go at friendship, maybe even romance.

In 1823, he marries a young woman with whom he is immensely enamoured. There was something about her that reminded him of Freya from so long ago. He dedicates his heart and soul to this woman and for a time, he is very happy. She falls ill in 1832 and passes away at the young age of 31. They have sired no children. Merlin stands over her casket, tears rolling down his cheeks. His sweet belladonna, his beautiful Lily. Not even his magic could save her; she was already too far gone. He kisses her on the forehead and says his goodbyes.

"I love you..." He whispers, "Goodbye..."

No more, he decides. No more friendships, no more loves. He cannot bear the pain of loss. He later kneels at her grave and cries, sobs, lets himself release all of the pent up emotions he's been feeling. His fingers trace the name on the tombstone, _Lily Emrys_ (at this point, he has reverted back to calling himself Merlin and uses his second name as a last name). His belladonna... She always loved it when he called her that because her favourite flower was the belladonna lily. A bouquet of these flowers he places in front of the cold, hard stone. So unnatural, he thinks, so wrong because she was soft and warm. It hardly seems fitting. The bouquet no longer seems to be enough.

" _Bláthanna ag fás_." He murmurs and flowers begin to sprout up all around the grave. She lives on in these flowers, he tells himself in an attempt at self-comfort.

The friends he had made try to comfort him in the weeks following the death, but Merlin pushes them away. When they refuse to give up on him, he moves country yet again and in the 1900s, he is in America. Never a fan of politics, he travels north to Canada. Moreover, he takes residence in the northern most areas of Canada, where it is secluded and lonely. He isn't bothered by the cold. The next few centuries, he remains there, watching life pass by, but taking no part in it, leaving no mark.

Eventually, he moves back to England with the resolution of remaining there until Arthur returns. He begins to lose track of time now that he no longer concerns himself with the going-ons of society. Through his window, he watches. Civilisations rise, civilisations fall. None of this holds meaning for him.

Life holds no meaning for him, not until Arthur returns.

Fortunately, there are indications that the return approaches.


	3. Des Cendres

_"Merlin..." Gaius begins to stir from his sleep. He sits up and stretches, "My back..."_

 _"Gaius," Merlin breathes and embraces him, "It's been so long. I had to wake you. I was through with being alone."_

 _"Merlin, what on earth are you talking about?"_

 _"I put the kingdom to sleep. Everyone. After Arthur—"_

 _"Arthur!" Gaius interjects, "Did he make it? Did you get him to Avalon in time?"_

 _Merlin bows his head in shame._

 _"No. I... I was too late. He... He died..." Even though it has been years—centuries—since the dismal event, tears roll down his cheeks as though he has just returned from Arthur's final send off._

 _"Oh, Merlin..." Gaius places a hand on his shoulder, "But you mustn't blame yourself. You did all you could."_

 _"I should have done more."_

 _"Merlin."_

 _"No, Gaius. I should have saved him. I should have tried harder, done more. He shouldn't be dead. He wasn't supposed to die. I should have... I..." He is crying now, crying heavily. Gaius embraces him._

 _"You did all you could, you—"_

Merlin is awoken by a loud blast.

" _Coinnigh slán_." He murmurs without thinking, casting a protective shield around himself.

It turns out to be a good reaction as he can soon feel, radiating from the edges of his shield, the immense heat from the blast. He sees the walls melt away around him, the floor burning to nothingness. The walls gone, he can see the disintegrating town around him. He knows what has happened, what he knew was bound to happen. The war-torn countries have found a peace now, in eternal sleep. The deadly nuke has been launched and all that remains now is ashes. Ashes and Merlin and his bed. That is all. The scorched earth holds no more life other than he and those who have prepared for this. He knows not how many there are, but he does know that the population has been decimated. The trees are dead, the plants, the animals... All flora and fauna now gone.

Merlin knows he must act or surely all will perish. Without food or oxygen-producing plants, no one will last. He stands, the protective shield following him. As soon as he has moved, the bed, too, melts.

He kneels down and begins to incant,

" _Ais aeráid mheasartha_ ," he murmurs and he can feel the cool breeze as the earth returns to a regular temperature, the abnormal heat easing and dying, " _Scamaill bheith imithe, aer glan._ " The noxious clouds of radiation disperse and the air is cleansed, " _Lig nádúr a chur ar ais_ , _sreabhadh aibhneacha,_ " Around him, the grass begins to sprout and trees begin to grow at an accelerated rate, plants growing at the trunks, forests coming to life around him. In the distance, he can hear the flowing of a river, " _Ainmhithe filleadh ar an domhain_." He can now hear the distant chirp of birds as animals return, alive once again. The lives lost, unfortunately, cannot be restored. Merlin knows this all too well. However, those who live still will be able to continue to do so without risk of radioactivity, starvation, or thirst. So, thinks Merlin, there's still a chance, now, that Arthur may return. He knows Camelot is safe, as well as a few other areas he enchanted long ago, such as Avalon. Avalon, he is sure, will be pivotal to Arthur's return.

He sighs heavily; he knows Arthur's return is not quite nigh. He does, however, believe that it is not, perhaps, so far away. The time is approaching, he tells himself, but not yet.

Before long (perhaps a century or two, but he has lost count), Merlin sees civilisations rising from the ashes. Only, things are different now. A few generations have passed with the remainder of the human race too afraid to leave their fallout shelters. The generation which lives now does not know of things such as the automobile or the television; they do not know of the age of technology. Sure, they have heard the stories passed down, but to them, they are no more than myths— not to be believed.

Merlin smiles to himself as he walks through a quaint village which much resembles the villages of his day. His era is returning and he is fairly sure that Arthur will soon return with it. After all this waiting... Perhaps his wait has come to an end. He will live again! What joy, what bliss it will be to have his old life back! The smile refuses to leave his lips as he continues walking, entering what is much the same as a kingdom. Then, he sees something which makes his smile drop and dread fills his stomach with lead. He stops mid-step and can only stare at the woman in her elegant dress of fine silk bending down to smell the grouping of roses next to the cobblestone path. He cannot see her face, but he can sense the strong (and thankfully dormant) magic that lies within. When she turns, having felt eyes staring, it is confirmed.

Merlin finds himself staring into the eyes of Morgana Pendragon.


	4. Le Retour

"Can I help you, sir?" Morgana asks, timidly approaching him. She still has that incredible warmth in her voice and in her expression. Merlin is relieved; she does not remember.

"My apologies," He replies, his voice coming out withered and aged—he has forgotten that he is old, that he is Emrys—"You just look like someone I knew... long ago..."

Morgana seems to take this as an acceptable answer. She smiles warmly,

"Who was she?"

"A... A princess." He says lamely. Technically, he isn't wrong and he certainly can't say it was a powerful sorceress with a hunger for vengeance.

"A princess? Well, I'm flattered."

"Ah, yes. She was once very kind and caring, even to those who were below her. She was well loved by the people for a time." He explains, reminiscing. Morgana smiles in polite interest, he thinks. "My apologies. I will not bore you with the stories of an old man." The sooner he can get away the better; surely this means that Arthur's return is nigh.

"I'm not bored at all." She says kindly, "I would gladly listen to your stories, if you will continue to tell them."

Merlin hesitates.

"I... Well, I'm sure you have better places to be."

"No, nowhere. Come, we can find somewhere quieter."

"Ah... Yes, of course. Whatever you wish."

Morgana begins to walk and Merlin knows he's supposed to follow. He can sense her power, even though she seems to be unaware of its existence. Begrudgingly, he does follow and she leads him into a forest. He is wary as they walk through the trees. Despite her lack of memory, he does not trust her. He will never trust her again.

They soon reach a small clearing and she invites him to sit upon a stone there. They are next to a large, sparkling lake. In the distance, there is a small island with stone buildings.

"No, no, my lady. I prefer to stand."

"If you insist. Now, please, continue your enchanting story. Tell me all about this woman."

"Well, uh... She was very beautiful. She was once so kind that she would help anyone who sought her help, especially children. She had a soft spot for children. She was very... warm-hearted, sweet-natured. Though she had a feisty side."

"That sounds like me." Morgana laughs. Merlin continues,

"She always spoke up against wrongdoings, even when it would have greatly benefited her not to speak at all. She was, at times, punished for her opinions, for her speaking out. She was strong-spirited. Once so kind..."

"You cared for her, didn't you?"

"Greatly, at one time."

"At one time?"

"She... changed."

"Changed?"

"Yes. She... She became power hungry. She wished to rule, to sit on the throne of the kingdom. In revealing this desire, she committed many heinous acts, hurt many people. The throne was destined for her brother, who was to unite the kingdoms. She became intent on killing him and taking the throne. She had already made many attempts on the life of their father, with whom she had constantly quarreled. After he died and her brother became king, her anger turned to him. She wished him dead and herself on the throne."

"Did she succeed?" She is smiling slightly, but Merlin doesn't even notice; he is too caught up on reliving his past.

"Yes and no. She succeeded in causing a war (with, in fact, the help of one of those children she had aided so long ago) that resulted in his death, but she was slain before she had the chance to take the throne. From then on, the kingdom would then have been ruled by the queen, a woman whom the king loved dearly. Now this woman was truly kind. And so intelligent, so knowing. This woman would be a glorious queen. The people loved her because she was one of their own. You see, she had been a blacksmith's daughter, but the king—then a prince—had fallen in love with her. Her kindness, her beauty, her honesty, and her council... it all enticed the prince and he began to change, to become a better man. It was she who truly formed him into a man worthy of being king. And I... I, too... At least, I hope..."

His eyes are closed because he can feel tears him them. He bows his head. He cannot see that she is no longer smiling.

"Well done." She says, her voice losing its warmth, "You've remembered it all very well, Emrys." Merlin's eyes snap open.

"Morgana," His voice is tired now, "you remember, then?"

"Only just." She raises her hand and her magic grasps him in a choke hold, "For years, centuries, millenniums... I lived."

"But... But... I..." Merlin manages to gasp.

"Killed me? Yes, I suppose you did. I was reborn; I returned from death. I didn't remember. All those years, I lived confused and alone, never understanding why others kept dying, yet I lived on. I had to keep moving because people kept noticing my lack of aging. I was hunted at times and still, I didn't remember. I, the last High Priestess, who was once so powerful... I knew nothing. I thought magic was something for kids to believe in. And you!" The choke hold tightens and Merlin clutches at his neck, "You've known this whole time! You, who killed me! Well, I think it's now time I return the favour." It tightens further. It tightens and tightens until, suddenly, it's gone completely.

Merlin falls to the ground, gasping and trying desperately to breathe in as much oxygen as he can. It takes him a moment to even think to look up at the cause of his release.

Morgana stands there, her mouth open in a pained gasp. Through her side is a shining sword, glistening brilliantly in the golden sunlight. She sways for a moment before falling. Merlin squints through the dizzying blurriness in his vision and the bright light of the sun. Black dots begin to cloud his vision, but he manages to make out a figure and then, slowly, a face.

Standing behind her is none other than Arthur Pendragon, King of Camelot.

Merlin falls back, the blackness of oblivion consuming him.


	5. La Fidélité

Merlin is awoken by a slight kick to the side. He slowly opens his eyes and there, illumined by the sun, stands Arthur.

"Arthur..."

He extends a hand to Merlin, which he readily takes. Arthur helps him to his feet. Tears prick at Merlin's eyes; he has been waiting for this moment for so long! Wordlessly, he hugs Arthur, who awkwardly pats his back before putting him at an arm's distance. He can now see the tears in his eyes.

"Oh, don't be such a girl, Merlin." He says, punching his shoulder in what he believes to be a playful way. Merlin winces and Arthur rolls his eyes. "Come, we must return to Camelot. Guinevere will be worried." Merlin tries to interject, but Arthur continues: "And why are you an old man? Do away with that, it's weird." He begins to walk, not waiting for Merlin. When he realises that he is not following, he stops and turns, "Come on, Merlin. We need to go back to Camelot. We need to prepare the knights for further attack."

"Arthur..."

"Guinevere probably thinks I'm dead. Let's go."

"Arthur, you don't understand."

"I understand perfectly. You... You have magic and you used it to save me. Now let's go."

"That was centuries ago."

Arthur pauses, staring at him in disbelief as if waiting for some sort of punchline. When he sees that Merlin is serious, he begins to walk back towards him.

"... What do you mean?"

"You have been dead for... a very long time..."

"Dead?"

"Dead. I have been waiting, all these years, Arthur. I have seen things you couldn't even imagine. Entire civilisations rising and falling only to rise again, anew."

"Guinevere... She... She's not...?" He cannot bear to ask.

"She's fine. Camelot is fine. Hidden from sight and from time. I have not been there in... about a millennium, maybe two."

"And you've been waiting all this time?"

Merlin nods.

"... I... Thank you, Merlin. You... You are a true friend..." He bows his head for a moment. "You are very loyal, faithful. You always have been. Thank you..." Merlin places a hand on his shoulder amiably.

"I'll lead you to Camelot, then." Merlin says. "After I... rejuvenate."

"Right." Arthur says, "I'll be over there, waiting." He still feels awkward about the fact that his loyal servant has magic, has lied to him all this time— yet has saved him more times than can be counted.

He walks a short distance away and observes his surroundings. The lake... That's the same, but the forestry... It's all different. Arthur doesn't recognise it at all. Merlin must be right; it has been a very long time. Strange, he thinks, he doesn't remember dying. It's as if he had only just closed his eyes and upon reopening them, he found himself in the lake, Morgana and Merlin in the near distance. He doesn't feel as though any time has passed. At the very least, it feels as though he may have fallen asleep, only to wake up in the lake. He shakes his head and dismisses the ordeal as magic. Magic, what a perfect catchall.

Soon, Merlin is at his side, young as Arthur believes he ought to be. Surely, Merlin has not changed. Not completely. Arthur has faith in this, in Merlin, just as Merlin has had faith in him. Always, he has had faith. It has never wavered.

Neither of them notices that Morgana has dragged herself away.

"Ready to go?" Merlin asks him. Arthur offers a stiff nod in response. The two begin to walk.

"No horses?"

"No, sire. I haven't had any need for them. Ever since the regression of society, I have stayed close to Avalon, close to Camelot. I knew it wouldn't be long before you returned. And then when I saw Morgana... Then, I knew."

"Are you sure Camelot is safe?" He is thinking of Guinevere.

"Yes. I'm certain."

"Good."

The two walk in silence for awhile, both still processing what has transpired.

"So how much do you remember?" Merlin finally asks.

"Everything. Except for dying."

"I remember the dying part all too well." He shudders, "It replays in my mind constantly."

Arthur glances at him and finds a haunted look upon his face. He can sees all the many years Merlin has lived in his eyes.

"Buck up, Merlin." He says, "I'm back now and we're going to Camelot." There was an unspoken 'what more could you ask for?' in his tone. Merlin pales as he thinks of his encounter with Morgana. That is one thing he could ask for: the lack of a Morgana. "Don't look so grim, Merlin. Come on. Now, how much further."

"Shouldn't be too far..." He murmurs, "There is one other thing I should mention."

Arthur stops and gives him that look, the look that clearly tells him to choose his words carefully, the 'what have you left out?' look.

"Camelot is hidden from time. Only those from that generation can see it. I am fairly certain that you will be able to see it since your memories have not progressed past that point. But Morgana... I don't know... She'll heal herself and now that she remembers..."

"She'll try to attack Camelot." Arthur finishes his sentence. Merlin nods. "Then we'll be ready for her when she comes. She has no armies now, I take it? We'll be ready."

"Right. Of course. Camelot's right this way, come on."

The two walk on, resuming their friendly banter from so many years ago. Soon enough, Camelot is visible in the distance and Merlin smiles, reminiscences beginning anew. Soon there will be new experiences, new adventures with Arthur. He will see Gaius again, and Gwen, and the knights. Finally, his life will resume after being on hold for so long. Merlin is ready for it, he invites it, and he can barely contain his excitement.

"At least Camelot hasn't changed." Arthur murmurs to himself.

"No," Merlin agrees, "it hasn't changed at all."

Neither of them could know of the surprise in store.


	6. Une Nouvelle Vie

As Merlin and Arthur walk through Camelot, Merlin cannot help but smile. Arthur glances at him,

"Merlin, you're grinning like an idiot." He remarks, though it is done with a friendly tone. "Where is everybody?"

"Asleep." Merlin replies, "It was necessary. To them, it will be as if no time has passed. For you as well, I suppose..." He sighs and it's an old sigh, a sigh that truly exposes his age, his weariness. Arthur frowns slightly and makes a mental note to give Merlin a day off— then he realises the absurdity of that thought and discards it. No, some sort of celebration is necessary. Something to honour him for all that he has done, so much of which Arthur has only recently learned. Well, he thinks, recent to me. And maybe he will treat him a bit more nicely.

"Take me to Guinevere first." He requests. Merlin nods and picks up his pace. They soon reach the castle and visible are the knights who fell asleep at their posts so many years ago. They breathe, Arthur notes. It's reassuring: it means they are alive.

It does take Merlin a moment or two to remember how to navigate the castle ("It has been a few years." He tells Arthur when he is questioned), but they when they finally reach the king's chambers, Arthur rushes in. In a few long strides, he is at the bed and he takes Guinevere in his arms.

"There was a fairytale that grew around her." Merlin tells him, "They got a few facts wrong, but the story goes that a beautiful princess lies—Gwen—in an eternal sleep, a curse cast on her by an evil witch—that's me, apparently—and she will only wake with the help of true love's kiss, destined to come from a prince. That's you, Arthur."

"Yes, well. Wake them up." He then remembers his resolution and adds: "Please."

Merlin nods,

" _Dúisigh go léir a bhfuil chodail_." He murmurs and his eyes flash gold. Arthur looks at Gwen, hoping for a sign of wakefulness.

Nothing happens. Merlin tries again,

" _Dúisigh suas gach duine a bhí ina chodladh gach bliana seo_." His eyes flash once more, but still no change occurs.

"Well?" Arthur looks at him, anxious now.

"I... I don't know... It's not working."

"Make it work!" He snaps, "Please... Please, it has to work..." Tears prick at his eyes. He can't lose Guinevere. He has lived without her once and he refuses to do it again.

"I'm trying, Arthur." He, too, has tears in his eyes. He has been waiting for so long, yet not once did he expect anything to go wrong.

"Try harder. I can't lose her..."

"I... I'll consult the books."

"Books? What books?"

"Well, unlike you, _I_ read sometimes." He attempts a joke, "Gaius. He has some... er... well, spell books. I'll look in those."

Arthur pushes aside the throbbing feeling of betrayal; Gaius had always sworn he was magic-free. He supposes he ought to have known, but decides not to dwell on it.

"Yes. Yes, do that."

Merlin nods and hurries off. Arthur focuses his gaze on Gwen's face. She truly is beautiful, he thinks, and she looks so peaceful when she's sleeping. He brushes away a loose strand of hair, tucking it behind her ear, and he kisses her gently on the forehead.

"Come on, Guinevere. You have to wake up. Please... Please wake up... I need you to wake up." He draws her closer so that her head rests against his shoulder. He closes his eyes and tries to think of their last night together.

 _We're lying in bed and she's in my arms. She's crying because she knows that the war will be dangerous and she worries for my life. She always worries about me, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't love it. It's that she cares for me. She cares so much. I care, too, only I care for her. She's telling me to be safe now and I promise her to be as safe as possible. She knows, though, that there may not be much possibility for safeness. After all, this is Morgana we fight against._

 _"Arthur," The way she says my name is always so soft, as if she caresses my name with her lips as she speaks, "I can't lose you."_

 _"You won't." I say, but we both know it's not a promise; it can't be, there's no telling what will happen._

 _"I love you." She whispers and I can hear the tears in her voice, and it breaks my heart that I should be the cause of them._

 _"And I love you." I reply, framing her cheek with my hand. Instinctively, we both lean in for a kiss, our lips meeting in desperation, in necessity. We are both painfully aware that this could be our last night together. The kiss begins soft and gentle, but I can feel her becoming more desperate as the kiss becomes more passionate. Tears roll down her cheeks and I can feel them on my lips, salty and sorrowful. "No tears." I whisper, "I want to remember you smiling, happy. That's how I want to think of you before I go to battle. I want to think of us together, happy and in love."_

 _"Oh, Arthur..." She buries her face in my neck in what I assume is an attempt to hide her tears. I hold her closer and gently rub her back._

 _"It's okay, Guinevere. I'm here. It's okay..." I try to be soothing, but in truth I can feel a lump rising in the back of my throat. I want to cry, but I know I can't. If I cry, she'll cry even more and I don't want her to shed more tears for me. "Don't cry, you haven't lost me." We can both hear the unspoken 'yet' at the end of the reassurance._

 _"I could go with you." She whispers. I shake my head._

 _"It's too dangerous. Besides, if... if anything should happen to me, you remain Camelot's sole ruler."_

 _"Arthur, I can't. I can't. Not without you."_

 _"Let's not think about that right now. Focus on this moment. Right here and right now. We're together and we're safe. Let's live in this moment and make it memorable. We'll have this moment as a keepsake to get through the hard times ahead."_

 _Then her lips are on mine again and her fingers entangle in my hair, though not ungently. She has always had that gentleness... We'll both fight sleep tonight; we'll want to remember every moment. Only I succeed and she falls asleep in the early hours of the morning with that sweet, peaceful expression upon her face..._

Much like the expression she wears now, Arthur thinks. As calming as it is to look upon that sleeping face, he wishes she would wake up. And where is Merlin? He wonders. He ought to be back by now. Surely, he's found a spell. Surely...

He resolves to go to the young warlock. Perhaps he can help look for a spell. Maybe. He's not sure how the whole magic thing works. He lays Guinevere back down on the bed and he lowers his head to give her a kiss goodbye. Just as his lips meet hers, her eyes flutter open.

"Arthur..." She breathes and then promptly faints.

Merlin soon returns to find Arthur holding on to Gwen once again. The king looks utterly dumbfounded and he doesn't notice Gaius trailing behind him.

"Merlin, I think the fairytale was right. I kissed her and she woke."

"No, sire. That was me. I found the right spell."

"Oh. Right. Of course. I knew that." He dismisses the thought.

"She, uh, doesn't look very awake."

"She probably fainted, Merlin." Gaius says, "Just from sheer shock."

"Of course." Arthur agrees, "She'll be all right though, right Gaius?"

"I am sure of it, sire."

"Good. Good..."

"But sire, there is something you should probably know."

Arthur looks at him warily.

"Yes?"

"Well, sire, she's—"

"Awake." Merlin interrupts, seeing Gwen's eyes open. Gwen instantly embraces Arthur, who readily holds her.

"I thought you were dead." She gasps, happy tears rolling down her cheeks, "Merlin—"

"Saved my life." Arthur tells her. "He... Well, it's a long story. There will be time later."

"We'll give you two some space." Merlin says before he and Gaius leave the chambers. Besides, Merlin has quite a bit to tell Gaius.


	7. La Révélation

"You wouldn't believe how long I've waited, Gaius." Merlin says, sitting down with Gaius to eat whatever it is that Gaius has concocted. "I've been waiting so long," he says in between mouthfuls of food, "I've even missed your cooking!" he jokes with a boyish grin. Though youthful in appearance, Gaius can see the years behind Merlin's eyes.

"Well, now it will be I who calls you old." He replies. Merlin laughs, something he has not done often. "So, you were alone the entire time?"

"Yes." It's a lie and Gaius knows it.

"Merlin..." He says in that familiar tone that lets Merlin know that he's been caught in a lie. That oh-so-familiar tone that causes so many memories to rush back to Merlin. Normally, these moments of reminiscence would make him smile, but he is thinking of his belladonna, his Lily... So many years have passed, yet the pain is fresh.

"I don't want to talk about it." He says quietly. Gaius doesn't push; he knows Merlin will talk when he is ready.

"What now, then?"Gaius asks, changing the subject. Merlin readily accepts this change.

"Arthur will fulfill his destiny and unite Albion. There are, of course, different kingdoms now, but that won't change anything. He will bring peace, and then I will finally rest."

"Rest?"

"Die."

Gaius gives a start,

"Don't say things like that, Merlin." He chides.

"Gaius, when you've lived as long as I have, you no longer fear death."

"I fear your death." He murmurs quietly.

"Don't. I will not actively seek death, it will simply be possible, an inevitability as it is for everyone else."

"Right. Naturally..."

Merlin can't help but think that he will embrace Death when he comes to collect him at last. It means he will see Lily once more, and his father, and his mother (for Ealdor was not spared from time). He will see Lancelot and Freya and all of those whom he has lost over the years. His old sorrow will cease and he shall finally know true rest, eternal rest. And Lily, most importantly. He will see Lily and he will hold her in his arms once more. He will brush her cheek with his fingers and he will behold her beauty. They will gaze at each other lovingly, and...

"Merlin? ...Merlin?"

He blinks and looks at Gaius. He had not heard him calling, so caught up in his reverie was he. He sighs heavily.

"I married once." He confesses. Gaius looks taken aback. More than that, he's shocked. For a moment, he only stares at him, which Merlin finds unnerving. "Her name was Lily. It was the Victorian Era... er... the year one thousand-eight hundred and twenty-three. I had met her a year prior in a small little café." He adds nervously: "Like a tavern, only without ale... She was so beautiful. My heart was hers from the moment I saw her. I just knew, Gaius. I don't know how, but I just knew... She caught me staring and she came over to talk to me. Her voice... Like music on a light summer's breeze... Her skin was so perfectly white, untouched by the sun, free from blemishes. Like... Like porcelain. Flawless porcelain..." He pauses for a moment, "Her eyes were like emeralds and I could see the intelligence behind them. She was well-learned. Her eyes weren't the only giveaway. There was this book she was reading... Firdausi, his Shah-nama. You've heard of it, I don't doubt. The book is old enough. She read and understood every word. It was her favourite. In our time together, short though it was, she would always insist on reading a passage from it aloud each night as we lay in bed. It was like her form of prayer, I suppose. She loved Firdausi's willingness to write about the great Persian kings from the past, even though his king was Muslim. She adored how he was too revered by the people for the king to dare to have him killed, but instead asked him to write poems about him. It enthralled her that a writer might be greater than a king..." He sighed softly. "And I never had to lie to her.

"For once, I allowed myself to be completely honest with someone. She knew that I was old, she knew that I had magic, she knew all I had been through, all I had seen— and she loved me anyway! She loved me for who I really was. There were no secrets between us. Never. Not one. I dedicated every minute of every day to her, I waited on her night and day (not that she ever asked anything of me), and I loved her with all my heart." He falls silent.

"I can't even begin to comprehend how difficult it must be."

"She died, Gaius."

"Yes, I would imagine so. She—"

"No, Gaius. She died after only nine years of marriage. She fell ill. I think it was tuberculosis. She died two months later."

"Oh, Merlin..."

He has tears in his eyes now,

"And I couldn't save her. She meant everything to me, but I couldn't save her. I tried, Gaius. My powers... they did nothing."

Gaius pulls him into a hug and the not-so-young warlock begins to cry in earnest.

* * *

"I thought you were dead. When Merlin came back without you..."

"Technically, I did die. Apparently it's a long story. Merlin was trying to get me to Avalon in time, but it was too late. And then I fell asleep and when I woke up, the forest was different and Morgana was about to kill Merlin."

"Morgana... I... I had wished her dead."

"I know. I, as well."

They are quiet for a moment, sitting next to each other on the bed, Gwen with her head resting against Arthur's shoulder. He turns his head to look at her and then frames her face in his hands, gently guiding her face towards his. Their lips meet and it's as though an electric current goes through them (though they can't name the feeling). Arthur pulls Gwen closer and her body rests against his. They fall back onto the bed, their lips still fiercely engaged, moving together as one. Her fingers entangle in his hair so that she can clutch him closer. Emotions and desires certainly could have escalated if not for:

"There's something I should tell you." They both say at the same time. Gwen laughs and kisses his cheek. She sits up and Arthur follows suit.

"Go ahead, Arthur."

"Merlin has magic." Arthur says after a moment. He looks at Gwen to see her reaction, but is surprised that there is none. "You knew?" He almost feels betrayed again.

"No, I didn't. I just... I had a feeling." She says, "I never said anything because I couldn't be sure if it was true. And I didn't feel anyone was in any danger even if he did have magic. He is proof that magic can be used for good." Arthur thinks about her words for a moment and then nods.

"I couldn't have put it better myself. Now, what did you want to tell me?"

"I... I am with child. Your child. Our child..."

Arthur seems to smile dazedly before he faints.


	8. Elle Rit

Gaius waves a cloth over Arthur's face. The cloth has been soaked in some mixture containing ammonia and it causes Arthur to wake, slowly. Merlin, meanwhile, is reassuring Gwen, who is concerned that her news has upset Arthur.

"I'm sure he's thrilled, Gwen." He soothes, "A lot has happened today. Enough for even the King of Camelot to be overwhelmed. Ah, look. He's waking up. It's okay, Gwen."

Arthur slowly sits up and looks around until his eyes land on Gwen, whom he immediately pulls into his arms. He kisses her passionately and places a hand gingerly on her stomach.

"Are you... Are you sure?" He breathes. She nods and he kisses her again. Merlin can't help but smile at the tender scene. His closest friends... Alive and happy. He has waited too long for this.

Arthur whispers something to Gwen. Whatever he says, she nods to, happy tears streaming down her cheeks. The two touch foreheads for a moment, smiling in their ecstasy. After a moment, Arthur clears his throat.

"Merlin, would you—"

"Of course, sire, we'll give you some privacy." He has assumed that the two require some alone time.

"No, no. It's not that." He shifts awkwardly. Arthur is not usually awkward.

"Sire?"

"Will you be the compater?" He asks. It takes Merlin a moment to remember the old word, but soon its English variant comes to mind: godfather.

"A-Arthur..." He stammers, surprised.

"It was Guinevere's idea." He says automatically, not realising the absurdity of this statement. Gwen immediately begins to laugh. Arthur reddens, which serves to only further her laughing. "Of course, it's up to you..."

"I'd be honoured." Merlin says, a grin forming on his lips. Arthur stands and hugs him, which throws the warlock off guard. Perhaps, though, the mighty king can be emotional sometimes too. Arthur grasps his forearm for a moment afterwards in a form of handshake. Merlin has seen him do this with his knights; in Camelot, it is a sign of respect. He then hugs him again, and tightly, Merlin notes. He almost wants to laugh— he has never seen Arthur so amicable.

"Thank you, Merlin." He says. It's a simple statement, but Merlin can hear all of the meaning behind it. He isn't just thanking him for this, he's thanking him for everything, for his years (and years, and years) of service, for the many times he's saved his life, for his friendship, for his counsel, for his unwavering loyalty— in short, for everything Merlin has done for him. This 'thank you' amounts to all of the 'thank you's Arthur ought to have given him in the past, but let slide or didn't even realise were necessary. Arthur knows now the extent of Merlin's devotion to him and he appreciates it more than he can express— or, rather, more than he knows how to express; the king is not used to showing emotion, so often has he been forced to repress.

"You're welcome, sire." Merlin says sincerely, and his words hold the same weight. After a moment, Arthur returns to Guinevere, taking her hands and pulling her to her feet. He kisses her briefly.

"We should announce this... this joyous news to the kingdom." He is grinning and Merlin knows already that he will be a very proud (not to mention very good) father. "This is cause for celebration. A... A feast!" He decides. He is awestruck, Merlin thinks, at the prospect of having a child. Perhaps, Merlin thinks, he is excited to have, once again, someone who is family by blood. Morgana certainly does not count.

"Wait." Merlin says suddenly, "What if Morgana hears of this? She may wish the child harm."

"She will not touch Guinevere." Arthur swears, "Not on my life." As if to demonstrate, he enfolds Gwen in his arms protectively. She kisses his cheek softly.

"Sire, I find it likely that Morgana will be able to gain the support of other kingdoms. These people, of this new century... They do not know of magic; they will see her powers and fear her, but also revere her. They will follow her to avoid her wrath."

Gwen looks at Merlin in utter confusion.

"What do you mean, this 'new century'?"

"That," Merlin stresses, "is a long story... Though it is one, I suppose, that you ought to hear."

She tilts her head slightly and her expression is serious; this is her 'what aren't you telling me?' look.

"You may want to sit down. This could take awhile..."

"Then let's reconvene in the drawing room." Arthur proposes. "Gaius, Merlin, please meet us there. Guinevere and I will join you shortly."

Gaius bows and guides Merlin by the arm out of the room. Once the door is closed, he pats Merlin on the back and smiles at him. Merlin grins back, another truly boyish grin that doesn't quite touch his eyes in the same way it used to.

"Compater!" Gaius congratulates, "I can think of no better person, Merlin. Truly."

"He'll be a good father, Gaius. I know it."

"Of course he will." Gaius agrees. "Of course he will."

"He'll teach his son not to fear magic, that magic is not always a negative thing."

"But, Merlin, you must remember than the child may still grow up in a time where magic can be very negative. There is still Morgana and she may not be vanquished so easily. I fear I must agree with you, that she will gain the support of the other kingdoms. In fact, we can count on it. There is war yet to come. The people of Camelot will not change their minds about magic so quickly."

"Arthur has."

"Those were extenuating circumstances. These people lived under Uther's rule, where magic was to be feared and condemned. They may not take to those who practise so warmly."

"They take to Arthur warmly. That is what I'm counting on, Gaius. They believe in him and they adore him. This is the new age, the age of magic. This is what I have been waiting for, Gaius. He'll unite the kingdoms and bring peace. He's destined to."

"I suppose you're right, Merlin. I certainly hope so."

* * *

Three figures in dark robes slowly walk towards Camelot, the castle illumined by the sun. They seek one person and one person alone.

They seek Emrys.


	9. Une Nouvelle Colère

A/N Sorry for lack of updates lately. School has me very busy.

Morgana isn't happy.

She is far from happy. In fact, she is very unhappy and that unhappiness has bred a newfound anger, made so much more powerful with all the years that have passed. She wants revenge— no, she _needs_ revenge, hungers for it, thirsts for it. She must have it.

She will have it.

She has healed herself, rid herself of the wound inflicted upon her by her dear brother.

"Arthur." She spits as she drudges through the forest, without any clue of where to go. This land is different and she hates it, as she hates everything. She hates the leaves in the trees, the ones on the forest floor too; she hates the sun for shining so brightly, for radiating so happily, and she loathes the picturesque blue sky. She hates the trees so much that she sets one on fire with a simple, " _Sruthán tine,_ " and it is done. Black smoke billows heavily upward and Morgana laughs as the fire spreads to another tree, and another, and another. Let it reach Camelot, she thinks, let it reach Arthur; let it reach Gwen. Oh, how she loathes Gwen for sitting upon the throne that is rightfully hers! She will suffer, Morgana decides, they will all suffer. First, Morgana grins twistedly, she must acquire an army. Navigating her way through the slowly catching trees, she soon reaches a road. Where there's a road, Morgana knows, there's a people.

She follows the dusty road to a small village. In the distance, she sees a castle of sorts. Excellent.

She approaches an upstanding sort of young man.

"Who rules here?" She asks sweetly, deciding to make a good impression first. The rest will follow.

"King Obsidius." The young man replies after a moment, "You are not from here."

"No."

"Who are you?"

"You will soon learn. I must see your king. Take me there."

"Why?" He asks slowly, distrusting.

"Never you mind. You will soon learn. Take me to him."

"Not without knowing your intent." He stands his ground, not knowing at all the danger this can place him in. How can he know? How can any of them know?

Morgana smiles a fake smile.

"I only wish to serve." She curtsies, "I tire of travelling from place to place, never finding one to call home. It is a lonely life, that. One that I wish to forfeit."

He eyes her warily.

"Very well. Follow me. We will go to him directly."

Morgana smiles another fake smile, this time of false gratitude. The young man leads her within the enclosure of the palace and then within its walls. She has chosen well; he is a nobleman and friend to the king.

The king looks up when they enter and upon seeing Morgana, stands. He is enraptured by her beauty. Morgana sees this in his eyes and alters her plans: rather than a display of power, she will sew a tragic story of slain parents and no remaining family to speak of.

"My Lord," She falls to her knees before him, "My Lord, I throw myself at your feet and I weep."

"Pray, child, why do you weep so?" He asks, concern colouring his voice. Already, she knows she has him wrapped around her little finger.

"I have walked, alone, with no destination, with nowhere to go. I have no one."

"Not a father?"

"Slain."

"Mother, then?"

"Also slain. My Lord, I have family no more. I am alone in this world. I once had much wealth to speak of and loving parents who doted so upon their only daughter. I had lavish dresses and was happy, being rich in family. Now, there is nothing. I ask, humble king, oh my Lord, I ask only for lodgings, even the lowliest of hovels to call home, that I might no longer travel forevermore."

"Arise, child. This you shall have, though nothing remotely lowly will evermore touch your fair skin. You shall have riches again. You shall live here, in my castle, as my special guest here." He takes her hands and lifts her to her feet. Morgana smiles radiantly.

"My Lord, my most gracious, most magnanimous, most endearing Lord. I thank you."

The king smiles fondly,

"I shall personally show you to your rooms."

* * *

When Morgana is alone, she laughs at the king's stupidity. To him, she is merely a pretty face. In time, he will learn. First, she will worm her way into his heart and become his queen. This will give her power. Then she will, in weeping, confess that it was on the orders of a nearby king that her parents were slain. Naturally, an army must be sent out to attack this king. Then, while all his men are gone, Morgana will entice the king to some alone time, during which he will tragically die and Morgana will assume absolute rule. She will make the people adore her, she will make them yearn to avenge her and take Camelot. Then the throne will be hers. She can deal with Arthur personally. She will make sure to tell them that. Arthur is hers to kill. And Gwen. Well, after she finishes playing with them, particularly Gwen while Arthur watches, helpless...

It is with these thoughts that Morgana Pendragon finds herself falling asleep. Thoughts of vengeance and murder... These are what will appease her. These are what will bring her happiness.

And so her mind rests at ease, having decided her own future.


	10. Les Trois

The three cloaked figures enter the kingdom with some apprehension. They know themselves to be enemies of the kingdom by their very nature. These are some of the last druids. All that remains now is a small group. Mating with fellow druids has been difficult throughout the long years. So difficult to find, so difficult to carry on the lineage. So much hiding, so much desolation. But that can change now. They know the legends, the prophesies. They know that Emrys can help.

 _"Emrys..."_ They call out mentally. _"Emrys, come to us..."_

* * *

Merlin jumps at the echoes of three distinct voices in his head. They are sitting now in the drawing room and this catches everyone's attention. They all look at him. He closes his eyes for a moment.

 _"Who are you?"_

 _"We represent the last of the druids."_ The voices all answer.

 _"What do you want from me?"_

 _"It is time, Emrys."_

 _"Time for what?"_

 _"The end of hiding. The time of Albion."_

Merlin opens his eyes to look at Arthur, who stares back at him with that expression which reads: what is going on? what are you doing?

 _"That time has come. Or will very soon."_

 _"Camelot is returned. How does the king?"_

 _"He knows of me and accepts my abilities. Albion is nigh."_

"Merlin, what are you doing?"

He has not realised he is still staring at Arthur. He blinks.

"Druids." He says by way of explanation, "In the kingdom."

"How could you possibly know that?"

"Sire," Gaius intervenes, "Merlin can communicate with the druids mentally and vise versa."

Merlin nods vaguely, though not really paying attention to that conversation.

 _"Come to us, Emrys. Come to our camp."_

 _"Help us, Emrys. Help us."_

 _"Save us, Emrys."_

 _"Emrys..."_

The voices echoing in his head are making him dizzy.

 _"Help us."_

 _"Protect us."_

 _"Save us."_

 _"Enough!"_ Merlin snaps, _"Not all at once. I don't even know what it is you want me to do."_

 _"Come to our camp."_

 _"Fine."_

Merlin looks around and finds all eyes on him.

"They need me to go to their camp."

"You?" Arthur nearly scoffs, "Why you?"

"They like me better. I don't know, Arthur." He sighs and buries his face in his hands, "Never any rest. All these years and never any rest..." He closes his eyes for a long moment. Arthur frowns slightly. "I'll go now." He stands.

"I'll accompany you." Arthur offers, but Merlin shakes his head.

"No, I should go alone. They aren't ready to trust you yet. Understand that they've been hiding for centuries. They've lived in fear of persecution. I'm one of them. They trust me. I alone must go."

"Be back by morning. If you haven't returned, I'll send men after you."

Merlin merely nods before leaving.

* * *

Morgana is surprised to learn that the king has a daughter. This does not dissuade her, however; the child is young and poses no threat. Morgana would hazard a guess that she is nine winters old. She is a quiet little thing that has already grown attached to Morgana. Her mother, she has been informed, died while giving birth to the child. Morgana dislikes the reminder of Arthur, yet can't find it in her heart to hate the child— she has always had a certain fondness for children. When she becomes queen, she will take the child under her wing. Perhaps she can be taught magic.

The king is clearly quite enamoured with Morgana. Already, it is obvious. Even his men have begun to take notice, Morgana notes with a satisfied grin. Morgana plays her part well her first evening, when she is invited to dine with the king.

"A toast," the king says at the end of the meal, raising his goblet, "to you, Morgana, and to your newfound home. Welcome."

The little girl, Alyss, raises her goblet too, smiling at Morgana with all the childish innocence Morgana, herself, once had. Morgana smiles back to seem proper and places a hand on her chest.

"I'm honoured, my Lord." She says, "And I am most grateful to be most warmly received."

"You're a charming girl." He notes, observing her for several moments in such a way that makes Morgana feel suddenly naked. His eyes seem to see her entirely, through and through and Morgana is disturbed by this. "You may dine with me and my daughter anytime." He decides. Morgana shifts uncomfortably under his stare, but forces a grin nevertheless.

"It would be my pleasure, sire." She replies, lowering her eyes coquettishly so that he might notice how delicately her long lashes sat against her ivory cheek. The king continues to stare at her, finding it pleasant to do so, marveling at her beauty. Morgana pretends not to notice now, but young Alyss can see her discomfort. She is a very attentive child, in her quietness.

"Morgana," She pipes up, "I would like very much to show you my newest dress."

"I would love to see it." She takes the excuse for an exit, internally grateful and internally loathing the king.

"Father, may we retire?" Alyss asks. Obsidius reluctantly nods, whereupon Alyss stands and takes Morgana's hand, leading her out of the dining hall and through the halls. Morgana looks down at her, a little bewildered at the child's perceptiveness and kindness.

"Thank you, Alyss." She says quietly.

"Father is like that sometimes with the handmaids. I know they do not like it very much."

"What you have done is much appreciated." Morgana tells her, "... In fact, I think it merits a little gift."

"A gift?"

"Yes, but once we are somewhere private."

Alyss looks at her questioningly for a moment, but shrugs it off.

"My room is just down this hall." She says, "Perhaps there?"

"Indeed."

The young girl leads her into her bedroom and Morgana makes sure to close the door behind them. This done, she turns to Alyss and kneels down the her level and she places her hands on her shoulders.

"Now you can't tell anyone about this just yet, okay?"

"Okay."

Morgana holds out her hand, palm facing upwards.

" _B_ _láthanna._ " She murmurs and a delicate little flower forms in her hand. She gives it to Alyss, who gazes at it in awe, her little jaw dropping. She spins the flower around in her hands and holds it right in front of her large hazel eyes, as if to make sure that it truly is real. She brings it to her nose and inhales the sweet perfume scent of the flower.

"Larkspur." She whispers.

"Yes."

"But how?"

"Magic." Morgana breathes.

"Beautiful..."

Morgana smiles a true smile.

"You can't tell anyone though."

"Why not?"

"Because some people would fear me or hate me for it. It cannot be revealed yet. Understand?"

"Yes, Morgana."

"There's a good girl."

Alyss embraces Morgana and, for a moment, touches the witch's cold heart. Morgana reprimands herself internally. Feelings are a weakness, she tells herself. I cannot let this little girl get inside my head. She can be allowed to live, that is all.

Morgana stands, ending the embrace.

"I should retire to my chambers." She moves to leave.

"Goodnight, Morgana." Alyss murmurs. Morgana pauses and looks back.

"Yes. Goodnight." She leaves, closing the door behind her.


	11. La Faiblesse

Merlin finds the encampment to be rather sparse— indeed the numbers are dwindling among the druids. He observes those who live there and find that they all share a peculiarity: they are all sick with a disease Merlin has never seen before. The skin is so pale, it is white and the bags under their eyes are a stark contrast, black as night. Most curious are the pustules covering every inch of their bodies, all infected and blackened with what Merlin hopes is not gangrene. All are missing patches of hair and look dehydrated and perhaps starved.

"You didn't mention this." Merlin says quietly.

"We worried you would not come." One of the druids who led him there replies.

"... You thought of the risk it could bring to Camelot, should I become infected."

"Yes."

Merlin sighs in slight frustration.

"If you had told me, I could have brought Gaius. He's a physician."

"But you, Emrys, have lived through all ills."

"And there is still much I do not know."

"And there is much you do."

"I do not know this illness."

Instantly, the atmosphere drops. All had been hopeful that Emrys would be their saviour, but if he did not recognise the illness... Merlin walks over to a young druid girl and kneels before her to examine her. The poor child is fatigued and looks as though she will not last long without treatment. She is clearly very frightened at the not-so-very distant prospect of death— her own death, the death of her parents, of her siblings, of her friends. Merlin frowns slightly, wracking his brain for some sort of solution but finding none. These poor people, he thinks, all diseased and dying. I have to help, he tells himself, I have to find a cure.

"I will confer with Gaius when I return." He says, standing, "We will find a cure, I promise." Though he does not yet know whether or not that is a promise he can keep. "I will return as soon as I have found something, anything. You will not be the last of the druids. I will find something. I give my word." He says solemnly.

"We thank you, Emrys."

"Do not thank me yet. Thank me once I have a solution."

* * *

As Merlin is returning from his visit with the druids, Morgana is awaking. She finds herself to be ill, though with a different illness than that from which the druids suffer. She finds that trying to sit up causes the room to spin and she must close her eyes to make it stop. She feels very hot and she aches everywhere. I'm a High Priestess, she thinks, I do not get sick. Yet, there she is, sick and pale, very pale. She cannot bring herself to rise from her bed, as much as she tries. She knows she has a fever, she can tell by the heat she feels radiating from her body. The king is expecting me, she tells herself, I have to get up in order for my plan to begin. This she tells herself, but she does not try to get up. She cannot even think of a spell to end this feeling. She isn't even sure of its variety. She is almost grateful when she hears a knock on the door.

"Come in." She calls, though her voice is rough. A handmaid enters, probably sent by the king to wait on her. She reminds Morgana much of Guinevere, albeit older, and she does not like the remembrance.

"M'lady, you're as pale as a ghost! Stay there, you need rest. I shall fetch you some tea directly. Oh, and soup? Would you care for some soup, m'lady?" The handmaid asks, fretting about her.

"Soup would be appreciated." Morgana says, thinking of the soreness and dryness of her throat. The handmaid bows before exiting hastily. Odd, Morgana thinks, bowing to someone not yet important. Perhaps... Yes, perhaps the king is already thinking on it. She smiles to herself. Perhaps, she ponders, I ought to play this out, play even more the damsel in distress, that he might dote on me in my time of illness. She closes her eyes for a moment, the light flooding into the room from the window hurting her eyes. This soon becomes more than just resting her eyes and she falls back asleep, dozing with her mouth slightly open and a relaxed expression upon her delicate facial features.

When the handmaid returns, she finds Morgana exactly like this and resolves to let her sleep. She places the bowl of soup and the tea on the small table in the room and sits down in a chair and begins to knit, having brought such supplies with her in a small satchel. As she knits and as Morgana sleeps deeply, she observes her with a curious expression on her face— wariness. She is wary of the woman who has so easily and so quickly wormed her way into the heart of the king. She does not trust her entirely. She cannot help but think that she has ulterior motives. She is a good actress, if it's so, the handmaid thinks, I'll keep an eye on her, make sure she doesn't do anything conspicuous.

And so, the handmaid knits and Morgana sleeps, Morgana sleeps and the handmaid knits, each oblivious to the thoughts of the other: the handmaid, suspicious and wary, and Morgana, dreaming of times before she knew about her own magic, times when Arthur was only like a brother to her and Uther only life a father, a time where she had anything she wanted and lived in perfect comfort and protection. Perhaps her dreams are reminiscent, even if the prideful Morgana would never admit it in her waking moments. However, she knows she would never go back, not even if she could. Her path is set now, and she will never return to the path that directly preceded it.


	12. Un Vieil Ami

"Damn it!"

"Merlin!"

"I still haven't found anything. Nothing." Merlin sighs, burying his face in his hands. "I don't know what's made the Druids ill. I've never seen anything like it, Gaius."

Gaius moves to sit across from Merlin, frowning. Merlin has not rested since his return from the Druids' encampment two days prior. He has surrounded himself with books, has refused to leave, refused to speak at lengths, refused even Arthur's company. He sometimes eats, if it is a meal that can be eaten while reading. Gaius knows that Merlin cannot go on like this for much longer without burning out. He'll make himself sick and weak. He needs rest.

"Merlin, take a break."

"No, Gaius. Not until I've found something."

Gaius takes his book away from him, the one he had been reading. Merlin is about to object to this, but Gaius silences him with a look. Merlin bows his head.

"I promised them, Gaius. I promised them I'd find a cure, but I've gotten nowhere. All this reading, all these books... Nothing."

Gaius examines the book he took from Merlin, and the books around Merlin.

"These are all recent... Rather, they were before time froze here. Perhaps this illness is something old. Ancient. Or it could very well be something new."

"I've read about ancient diseases. Unless it's something so old it hasn't even been documented, then it has to be new. I don't even know how to make a vaccine, much less a cure..."

"Vaccine?"

"It prevents illness. And these illnesses are all different now than they were before the radiation. They could have completely different genes, work in completely different ways. Gaius, I don't know what to do. I promised these people that I would save them. I don't know how to save them." Tears prick at his eyes, "Gaius, please tell me that there's some rare, magical herb that cures all ills, and that can withstand anything, even an atomic bomb. Please. There has to be something. I need to save them. I can't let them die..." Tears roll down his cheeks with increasing speed. "I have to do something. I promised they wouldn't be the last of the druids. They're the only ones left that are like me. They're practically family, Gaius. We... We share common blood... We carry magic in our veins. I can't let them die out. Gaius, please..."

Gaius stands and moves to Merlin's side, kneeling down to embrace him.

"We'll find a way, Merlin. But first, you need rest."

"Not until I—"

"Merlin, you'll be useless if you continue on this way. You need to sleep. We can do more research in the morning."

Merlin opens his mouth to argue, but is once again silenced by a look. Gaius straightens and offers him a hand, which he reluctantly takes. Gaius then leads him to his room, making sure he actually lies down.

"Rest." He murmurs softly before leaving him alone.

Merlin gazes at the ceiling, trying desperately to think of a solution, or at the very least a way to find one. But the not-so-young warlock is exhausted, and it is not long before his eyelids grow heavy and he falls asleep.

* * *

 _It is dark and all is silent. There is nothing, only darkness. There is no past, no present, and no future. No time or space. Only a void, eternal and all-consuming. Merlin is aware of nothing, which is to say that he is aware of everything— everything encompasses all of the nothing. There is no gravity, no up, no down, no left, and no right. He tries to speak, but has no sound. He tries to move, but he has no limbs. He is only consciousness, nothing else. He is nothing but thoughts, but the thoughts are of the nothingness. Then..._

 _"Merlin..." A voiceless whisper. Is it a whisper? Is it only in his thoughts. He cannot tell. It is everywhere, yet comes from nowhere. "Merlin..." He looks but does not see. "Merlin..."_

 _It is louder now. Closer? No. Still forever away, but louder. Close, yet far. And then..._

"Merlin..." A voiceless voice.

He sits up in bed.

"Aithusa."


	13. AN

A/N I will try to update this story soon. I know it's been awhile, but I'm feeling inspired again.


	14. AN 2

A/N:

Hello, readers,

Sometime ago, I wrote that I would be resuming story soon. I then proceeded to do nothing with it. I apologise for this. I fully intended to continue it, but I got bogged down in essays, my niece was born three months early and was in th hospital, and I finished my first year of university.

I would like to continue this story as I truly do adore BBC's _Merlin_ , and as like all fans of the show, I am unsatisfied with how it left off.

I will try to update as soon as I can. I apologise once again for being gone so long.

Regards,

Ashley


	15. La Nuit

Guinevere is staring out the window. Arthur is asleep in bed, but Gwen finds herself unable to do the same. Morgana has filled her thoughts and she worries about what the sorceress may do. She places a hand on her stomach. This child must be kept hidden from Morgana for as long as possible. This child will be the heir apparent, which marks it as an enemy to Morgana. Gwen is filled with anxiety at the very thought.

She blinks as she notices Merlin run across the castle grounds and into the forest. She considers waking Arthur, but decides against it. She has faith in Merlin, that he knows what he's doing. She makes a mental note to ask him about it later.

Gwen walks over to the bed and gazes adoringly at the man she loves, who is snoring softly. She marvels at how much he has changed, how good he has become. She knows that he will be a good father and she wonders if she will make a good mother. Their child will need to be brave, for he or she will surely be born in a time of war. Morgana will try to destroy everything she holds dear. Gwen can feel dread settling in, heavy in her stomach like lead.

Strangely though, she finds herself missing Morgana— missing how she used to be. She misses having a friend to talk to. She loves Arthur and values Merlin dearly, but she doesn't feel as though she can impart every worry upon them. The queen is often lonely. Arthur and Merlin are often away and Gwen is alone with no one to talk to. She is, of course, friendly to the servants, but they revere her too much to befriend her.

"I miss Elyan..." She whispers to herself, and tears gather in her eyes. He has been dead for awhile, but the pain is still fresh. She wonders if it will ever fade. She doubts it.

Suddenly, she isn't able to maintain composure and the tears rolled down her cheeks in rivulets. She tries to cry quietly, not wanting to wake Arthur. She isn't normally emotional like this. Perhaps it's the pregnancy, she thinks.

She moves to leave the room, not wanting to wake Arthur, but feels a hand on her wrist.

"Gwen?" Arthur mumbles, not fully awake. "Gwen, s'wrong?"

Guinevere shakes her head and buries her face in her hands. Arthur pulls her onto the bed and into his arms. He doesn't ask her again, but merely holds her. He understands that sometimes that's all one needs. He holds her close to his chest and she can hear his heart beating. This soothes her. She wraps her arms around him and resolves never to let go.

No matter what happens with Morgana, they will not be parted. Gwen won't allow it.

* * *

 _Gwen and Arthur are in a field. Gwen is screaming._

 _Morgana does not know the cause of her pain, but she revels in it. As she approaches, she hears the screaming stop. Her brow furrows._

 _Then comes a high-pitched cry— a wail. The source of the sound cannot be denied. It clicks in Morgana's mind and she's filled with rage._

The witch sits up abruptly.

"You're awake." King Obsidius comments. Morgana blinks.

"You were watching me sleep?" She can't help but feel violated.

"Yes." The King replies brazenly.

"My liege," Morgana regains composure, "to what do I owe the pleasure of... of such a late visit?"

"I was concerned. One of the handmaids mentioned you had taken ill. Since you are a most treasured guest, I thought it only fitting that I check on you." He is still looking at her in that way which makes Morgana feel naked, as though he is undressing her with his eyes.

"That is kind of you. I am... touched that such a... prodigious king such as yourself has come to check on me, and so late at night..."

Obsidius approaches her and touches her forehead.

"You're hot." He says. Morgana resists the urge to move away from his touch. His hand travels across her cheek, down her neck, and to her shoulder. "Perhaps you are wearing too much clo—"

"Father, are you in here?" Alyss pokes her head into the room and the King withdraws his hand.

"Alyss, why are you awake?"

"I couldn't sleep. I was too worried about Morgana. I came just to peek in to see if she was awake too and I heard voices. Is something wrong?" Alyss remains in the doorway, her brow knitted in concern.

"Everything is fine." Obsidius replies, but Alyss isn't looking at him; her eyes are fixed on Morgana, who gives a small, almost imperceptible nod. "Come, Alyss, I will walk you back to your room." He starts towards her and Morgana gives an inaudible sigh of belief. Alyss, however, does not give any sign of wanting to leave.

"Father, could I stay with Morgana tonight? I want to make sure she's all right. I could keep an eye on her!"

"Morgana needs rest. I'm sure she wouldn't want—"

"I would be glad to have company." Morgana speaks up. Alyss's eyes light up and she smiles brightly. Obsidius poorly hides a look of disappointment. Resigned, he nods and promptly leaves the room.

Morgana pats the space next to her on the bed and Alyss bounds over and climbs up. Both settle down to sleep.

"Thank you." Morgana says quietly.

"That's what friends are for." The little girl replies.

* * *

Merlin walks into the middle of a clearing.

" _Dragan!_ " He yells, " _Tar chugam! Is mise an ceann deireanach de thiarnaí na dragan. Mé a thoghairm ort. Tar!_ "

He waits. He closes his eyes and he listens.

Then he hears it: the sound of wings flapping against the gentle wind. The white dragon lands before him.

"Aithusa," Merlin greets him, "you're alive."

"As are you, dragon lord."

"You've learned to talk."

"You shouldn't be surprised." The dragon scoffs, "You know how long we have lived."

"Indeed. How have you stayed hidden?"

"Much the same way as you, I would imagine."

"I need your help."

"I decline to give it. You slew my true master." Aithusa replies sharply.

Merlin sighs softly. If he reveals that Morgana is alive, Aithusa will return to her, he has no doubt...

"I could order you to help me." Merlin says carefully.

Aithusa laughs, much to Merlin's surprise.

"Yes, I suppose you could, but you won't. I know you, dragon lord. You wouldn't take away my freewill."

"Wouldn't I?" Merlin replies evenly.

"Why should I help you? We are not on the same side."

"Yes, we are. We always have been. Look, I'm sorry for whatever happened to you when you were young. I thought Kilgarrah would have looked after you. _I_ should have looked after you. Listen to me when I tell you this: we are on the same side. We are on the side of magic. Arthur knows now. He—"

"Arthur lives, then... The once and future king..."

"Yes. He lives. And... And if you help us, perhaps we may find a way to save Morgana." The words escape his lips before he can think them through. It has the desired effect and the dragon's eyes widen.

"Do you know of a way?"

"I might, but only if you help me." He lies.

"Very well. What do you need?"

"The Druids are ill. They're the last ones. I can't let them die. It's not a disease that I recognise."

"Then it must be new. Seek the Prysthinium flower and bring it to me."

Merlin made a mental note of this.

"Where will I find it?"

"In the mountains. You'll know which one it is. Beware, however, for many creatures lurk in the mountains. You'll find the flower in a cave in the tallest mountain, if you survive. Return to me once you have it." Without another word, Aithusa took off. Merlin watched the dragon become smaller and smaller as it moved further and further away. Once again, he felt the many, many years of life take its toll on him. He knew it was only a matter of time before the dragon would return to Morgana, and the two of them were a dangerous match.

Merlin turned and started back to the castle.


	16. Quelques Vieilles Histoires

They are off, heading for the mountains in search of the Prysthinium flower. No sooner had Merlin informed Arthur of the flower and its abilities had Arthur assembled some knights, including Percival and Leon, for the journey. By Merlin's estimates, it will take three days to reach the mountains. He does not know how long it will take to retrieve the flower itself, but he has faith that it can be found in good time. It must be quickly done, Merlin thinks. The Druids may not have much time.

"Why are you riding so... stiffly?" Arthur asks Merlin.

"It's been awhile since I last rode." Merlin admits. Arthur's brow furrows.

"How long?"

"Longer than you can comprehend. I have trouble with it myself..."

The knights exchange a look of utter confusion, for not all has been explained.

"Later." Arthur tells them. He knows he must explain to his people the reason for the vast change in the kingdom's surroundings. For now, he has settled on advising his subjects not to leave the kingdom until he returns, so that he may explain.

A change in the usual way of things, Merlin is leading them as he knows this terrain far better than Arthur or any of the knights. Arthur doesn't admit it, but he doesn't like it. He doesn't like this feeling of being lost, of having no knowledge of his whereabouts. Everything is different now and, to Arthur, it feels entirely wrong.

"You'll get used to it." Merlin says, sensing Arthur's discomfort.

"Since I was a child, I've known the conurbation of Camelot like the back of my hand and now... I don't recognise any of this."

"Give it time." Merlin assures him. Arthur merely nods.

* * *

Morgana is braiding Alyss's hair, grateful for the girl who saved her the previous night, from a man whom Morgana has decided absolutely must go.

"What do you think of your father?" Morgana asks her carefully. Alyss tilts her head.

"What do you mean?"

Morgana pauses, biting her lip.

"What kind of man is he?"

"He's powerful." Alyss replies, "He has one of the best armies in all the world. Our knights are brave and strong. He likes girls a lot. He's scary when he yells. He's good at chess. He never gets scared."

"Is he... a good man?"

Alyss cocks her head to the side in confusion.

"What do you mean?"

"Is he a good person or a bad person?" Morgana asks slowly, trying to keep her voice level.

"There are no good and bad people; there are only people." Alyss replies. Seeing Morgana's bemused expression, she continues: "No one is all good and no one is all bad. Everyone's a bit of both."

"There are people who are more bad than others. There are people who murder, pillage, and... rape."

"But those people have to be good in some way. Maybe they like flowers or are really good at singing. Those are good things, which means that they'd have to be a little good somewhere inside."

Morgana gazes fondly at the child and smiles genuinely. This small girl is brilliant and so naïve, Morgana thinks. I wonder if she can be taught magic. Morgana looks at the young girl with motherly affection.

"Remember that flower I conjured for you?" She asked her. Alyss nods, her eyes alight at the prospect of seeing more magic. Morgana beams at her. "Would you like to learn how to do it?"

Alyss gasps.

"Really? You mean it?"

"Of course. I can teach you how. I can teach you all sorts of tricks. Only you mustn't tell anyone. Your people are not used to magic; it would frighten them and turn them against us."

"I won't tell anyone. I promise! It'll be a secret for only you and me to know." Alyss embraces her warmly.

"Our little secret." Morgana agrees with a smile.

* * *

Night is falling fast and it is not long before Merlin, Arthur, and the knights must stop to rest.

"Are there any new creatures to look out for?" Arthur asks Merlin.

"It's possible." Merlin replies.

"Possible? Don't you know?"

Merlin shakes his head.

"I... didn't really get out much for awhile there... I wouldn't say there's anything entirely new, but some creatures might have mutated DNA. They might have new features or maybe even less features."

"... Mutated DNA?"

"Their genetic makeup."

"In English, Merlin."

"Because of nuclear bomb... which is kind of like a big explosion that destroys everything entirely... things may be different than they were before. Dogs might have five legs, bears might have three eyes... Things like that, you know?"

"... I understand."

"Do you?"

"No, not really."

"Well, that's no different from usual." Merlin says calmly. Arthur gives him a look of mock offense.

"I am your king." Arthur reminds him, giving him a smack upside the head.

"You're a clotpole."

"I still don't know what that means."

"Well, there are a lot of things you still don't know."

"Oh really, now?" Sarcasm drips from his voice. Merlin has missed this.

"Well, it _has_ been awhile, but even disregarding that."

"And what do I not know?"

"Hm... Where to begin... Well, for starters, the fact that I used to save your life a few times a week."

"A few times a week? Oh, come on, Merlin. I do not need that much help."

"You kinda do. Also most of your victories were only possible because of me."

"Now that's just ridiculous."

"No, it's true. Do you remember the Lady Sophia? She and her father were banished sidhe. I had to defeat them both to break the enchantment she put on you. She tried to drown you in a lake. I dove in after you and brought you to safety."

Arthur pauses.

"You told me you knocked me out."

"Well, I couldn't have told you the truth. Your father would have had me killed. Oh, and then there was the time you replaced me with that guy, Cedric. He stole your keys and tried to rob the tomb of Cornelius Sigan, but instead was endowed with his soul. He nearly destroyed Camelot, but I defeated him too."

"You? You did that?" Arthur asks, dumbstruck.

"Yeah, that was me. Let's see... what else... Almost every time you injured yourself, it was fatal except I healed you. I always warned you when something was amiss and you always denied it and I was always right. Oh! And I was the one who sent Kilgharrah away."

"Kilgharrah? You mean the Great Dragon? _How on earth_ did _you_ do that?"

"I'm a Dragon Lord." Merlin tells him unabashedly. Arthur stares at him for several moments and then starts shaking his head slowly.

"No. No, that's not possible. Balinor was the last one and he's dead."

"Both of those things are true. He _is_ dead and he _was_ the last Dragon Lord, but he's not the last anymore. I am."

"I don't understand what you're saying."

"The powers of the Dragon Lord are passed from father to son, but... but only after the father is dead." Merlin informs him. Arthur stares for several more moments, trying to work out just what Merlin is telling him. Then it clicks and realisation dawns on him.

"That's why you were so upset when he died." He says quietly. "I apologise for not understanding at the time. I know now how painful such a loss can be."

"Gaius told me just before we left. He... Balinor, that is... He didn't even know he had a son. He was driven from Ealdor before my mother realised she was with child." There is a hint of sorrow in Merlin's voice, but it is an old sorrow that resembles bittersweet remembrance. He is silent for a moment. Arthur watches his expression and suddenly he can see the ancientness in Merlin's young face. There is a brief moment where Arthur feels as though Merlin's eyes belong to that of an old man. He looks away, disliking the feeling.

Suddenly, Merlin halts his horse and stares forward, into the distance.

"What is it?" Arthur asks him, stopping as well. The knights follow suit.

"Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"I heard a rustle..."

"Merlin, I think you're imagining things. There was no rustle."

"Shh." Merlin stares intently, his eyes seeing much more than what Arthur and the knights can see.

"Merlin, what are you—"

"Shh!" Merlin looks around the immediate area. He slowly turns to look behind them and sees an archer. "Arthur, get down!" Merlin shouts. Without giving Arthur the chance to heed his advice, Merlin lunges himself at Arthur, knocking him to the ground. Merlin is on top of him.

The knights launch themselves into action, pursuing battle with the group of bandits accompanying the archer, the likes of which had charged them the moment Merlin had cried out.

Arthur shoves Merlin off and joins the battle, his sword swinging.

At the end of the skirmish, a few of the bandits are dead and the others have fled. The archer is among the survivors.

"Once again, I've saved you." Merlin says quietly, an odd tone to his voice.

"Well, saved is a strong word." Arthur says without looking at him. He resheaths his sword. "Let's keep going. We're losing sunlight."

"A-Arthur..."

Arthur glances at Merlin, who is lying on his side on the ground. He has not moved since Arthur pushed him aside.

"What are you still doing on the ground? Come on, let's go."

"I can't."

Arthur's brow furrows. He walks towards him and it's only then that he notices the arrow in Merlin's back.

"No..."

He hastens to kneel down next to him, examining the entrance wound. His hands hover around the arrow and he is unsure of whether he should remove it. He blanches at the sight of the blood seeping through Merlin's shirt.

"You saved me..." Arthur says quietly. "You... That arrow was aimed at me..."

Merlin smiles weakly.

"Couldn't let you die again..."

"And I won't let you die now." He carefully lifts Merlin. "We'll get you to Gaius."

"No. You need to help the Druids."

"You'll die if we don't go back."

"And all of the Druids will die if we don't continue. I... I have lived a long time, Arthur. I am ready to die."

"Merlin!" Arthur chastises, "Don't say that!"

"Sire, what if I bring Merlin back to Camelot and you continue on with Sir Percival, Sir Adamane, and Sir Mugwen?" Sir Leon suggests.

Arthur thinks for a moment.

"Yes, that will do." He decides. "Sir Leon, get Merlin to Gaius as soon as you can." He says, placing Merlin back on his horse, albeit on his stomach. He looks at him with a serious expression: "Merlin, I expect you to be alive when I return."

"Arthur..."

"As your king, I order you to live. Do you understand me? You are not to give up. I don't care how ready you feel to die; you are not allowed to give up."

"As you wish, sire."

Arthur claps him on the shoulder and Merlin winces noticeably. Arthur nods to Leon, who remounts his horse and starts back whence they came, guiding Merlin's horse as well as his own. Arthur and the other knights continue on their journey.


	17. Le Malaise

A/N: Hey, guys! It's been awhile, I know. Sorry! University life is hectic and filled with assignments, plus I'm the vice-president of both financial and social affairs for my department's members' association and now also a volunteer for protection services; however, I intend on finishing this story because I need closure (I rewatched Merlin over the summer and I'm still not over it). Expect updates to be far and few between, but rest assured that I will eventually finish this story.

* * *

Morgana smooths her gown and tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She is wearing the most resplendent of the gowns Obsidius has provided for her. It is deep purple in hue, the kind of fabric that is hard to come by. It accentuates her curves and displays almost an immodest amount of skin. She is paler than normal, but paleness is becoming for a lady.

It is late.

It is late and Morgana Pendragon has a plan.

She pushes open the doors to the throne room. Obsidius, seated upon his throne, looks up, his eyes feasting hungrily on her exposed skin.

"Morgana..."

"My liege." She approaches him, sashaying. "I missed you after you left last night."

"You did?" The King is surprised, but gladly so. Morgana can see the delight in his small, piggish eyes.

"I did." Morgana says, "I missed you greatly. I desire you more than you could possibly understand."

"Shall we continue where we left off?"

"No, my liege. That would be sinful."

"Sinful?"

"Unlawful, even. For a lady to give herself completely to a man to whom she isn't married... What would people think of such a lady? I must save myself for marriage, Sire."

"Then you shall be my queen." Obsidius decides immediately. Morgana feigns joy.

"You mean it? Oh, I'm so happy! How quickly can we be wed?"

"Tomorrow. First thing in the morning!"

Morgana smiles demurely.

"First thing in the morning, then. And tomorrow night, I shall be yours."

* * *

Morgana navigates herself easily through the woods. She has, after all, lived a very long time in this area and knows it well. The sun has set now, but only just. The sky is not yet completely black and only the brightest stars are now visible in the darkening sky. She walks for a while, deep into the thicket of trees. In the forest, it is dark. The trees are large and many, blocking out the sky almost completely. Morgana does not mind the dark. She finds it welcoming, knowing that it will embrace her and conceal her misdeeds. She is safe here. There is no fear of bandits or murderers; Morgana is the one to be feared. This is her domain.

She stops under a particularly aged oak tree and waits.

She does not wait for very long.

Morgana hears him long before she sees him, the thud of his heavy boots on the forest floor, the crunching of dead leaves, the snapping of small branches under his weight.

"You've received my letter, then." She says in way of greeting. The man stands before her. He is very tall and thickset. There is a menacing air to him. His face is heavily scarred and his eyes are mismatched, one a brilliant blue and the other as black as can be.

"You require my services."

"Yes."

"Let me see the money first."

Morgana tosses him a a burlap pouch filled halfway with gold coins.

"You'll get the other half if you are successful."

"That's not how it works." The man replies, crossing his arms and looking down at her threateningly. Morgana's eyes flash gold and the man is sent flying back. Sprawled on the ground, he looks up at her. Morgana smiles at the look of fear in his eyes.

"You understand your situation. Up."

The man stands, but maintains a distance.

"I am not your typical client," Morgana tells him. "I'm far more powerful than you could ever dare to dream. It is not because of weakness that I require your services; it's purely due to my current social position."

"Social position...?"

"Tomorrow morning I will marry King Obsidius and I will be crowned his queen. Tomorrow night, when we retire to the King's chambers, you will be waiting. We cannot risk the King crying out for his guards, so I will subdue him. When his guard is down, you will kill him. You may take whatever you like off his corpse. Then you will go to the window to escape and I will call for the guards, screaming about how my poor husband has been killed by a rogue bandit. You will already be gone by the time the guards arrive and I will be the heir apparent. I will take over as ruler of the kingdom. Understood?"

The man nods.

"Good. You may go."

He stares at her for a long moment and then turns away from her, walking quickly.

Morgana smiles.

* * *

"How is he?" Leon asks Gaius, approaching Merlin who is either asleep or unconscious. Leon has just returned Gaius's quarters, having gone to tell Guinevere of the situation.

"He is very weak. It is as I had feared; the wound is infected. He has a very high fever and he has lost a lot of blood."

"Will he live?"

"He is, it seems, desperately clinging to life."

"Is there no hope?"

"I wonder whether this Prysthinium flower might have multiple uses. If it can heal a disease that we've not yet diagnosed, surely its healing properties must be great. Once imbued with the dragon's magic, it's possible that the flower may save both the Druids and Merlin. We must hope that Arthur and the other knights return soon. We must hope that Merlin can last until then. If he makes it through the night, it will be a good sign."

"I wonder if..."

"What?"

"Merlin said he was ready to die, but then Arthur ordered him to stay alive. I wonder if that's why he's still fighting."

"Then I should say it's more than likely."

The door to Gaius's quarters opens and Guinevere enters. She hurries over to Merlin's side.

"Merlin..." She breathes. She turns to Gaius. "Will he live?"

"It's hard to say. For now, we must hope that he makes it until Arthur returns with the flower."


	18. La Tempête s'en Vient

A/N: I have succeeded in getting two of my roommates hooked on Merlin. They have some interesting thoughts about it; one of them is certain that Gaius is going to die at some point. I don't think either of them have started to suspect Morgana yet. That might change when they meet Morgause in a few episodes.

* * *

Arthur and his knights are engaged in an intense battle with a very odd creature in front of the cave. They've reached the cave early by riding straight through the night and well into the following afternoon. The beast resembles a rather large bear with large and pointy teeth, sharp spikes on its back, and hard scales along its stomach which acts as a sort of shield, impervious to their swords. It is very quick and seems not to feel any pain when struck.

"Go straight for its heart through its back!" Arthur instructs; however, the beast is careful not to turn its back to them. Arthur dodges the creature as it swings at him with menacing, pointed claws. He aims an attack at the beast's legs, hoping to knock it off balance. This does not have the desired effect as the creature avoids the blow, but it does distract it and Percival is able to land the fatal blow, his sword stabbing through the great beast's back and into its heart. It falls, dead.

Arthur turns towards the mouth of the cave and is surprised to find a small female child standing there. Her skin is covered with what looks to Arthur like some ancient text and there is a strange air about her.

"You are not worthy of the flower." The girl whispers, and it sounds like she is whispering right into their ears. "You shall not enter my cave."

"Please," Arthur says, slowly approaching her, "we're not here for ourselves."

"What do you wish?" She is deeper in the cave now, having vanished and reappeared several paces back. Arthur enters the cave warily.

"The Druids are very sick. If we don't bring them the flower, they will die."

"You are Arthur Pendragon. You are no friend of the old religion."

"That can change. It's already started to change."

"Has it?" The girl cocks her head to the side. From within the cave, her voice seems to come from everywhere. Arthur can hear it all around him; he can feel it resonate. The girl gives him a disapproving look: "Does magic not remain outlawed in Camelot?"

"Yes, but—"

"And do your people not fear it?"

"Yes, but they—"

"You are not worthy."

Arthur wracks his brain for something— _anything_ —that will convince her.

"Would I be here if I were an enemy of the Druids, of magic?" Arthur asks her carefully, "I want to save them. I don't want my people to live in fear of magic any longer. My manservant, Merlin—"

"You speak of Emrys." She looks at him with shining eyes. He has her attention now.

"He is my closest friend and most trusted ally. It was he who told me of this place."

"Emrys sent you here?"

"Yes. He would have been here with me, but we were attacked."

"Attacked..." the girl breathes, her eyes unimaginably wide. "Does he live?"

Arthur hesitates.

"I don't know," he admits, bowing his head. The girl holds out her hand and, for a moment, Arthur thinks he's meant to take it, but then she starts to whisper in an otherworldly voice that pierces Arthur's very soul and in the palm of her hand, a flower appears. It is golden and it glows brilliantly. Even Arthur is able to feel the power emanating from it.

"Take it and hurry to Emrys or all shall be lost. If Emrys dies now, Camelot will fall. Take it now and promise me, Arthur Pendragon, that you will prove yourself worthy."

"I promise," Arthur vows, taking the flower.

"Only when magic returns to Camelot will Albion be nigh. Albion must be born of magic." She warns him, but it is a warning that Arthur does not need. "Go now. Make haste."

* * *

Morgana sits on one of two thrones to the kingdom of Espythia, the kingdom ruled by Obsidian. A crown shines resplendently atop her head and Morgana is genuinely pleased. All is going to plan. Tonight the King will die and he has just named Morgana as the heir apparent. By this time tomorrow, she will be the sole ruler of Espythia. With an entire army at her command, she will finally be able to take Camelot once and for all. Of course, she mustn't begin her rule with a declaration of war. Morgana is smart enough to know that there is a whisper spreading across the kingdom, sewing seeds of mistrust. Morgana must gain the trust of her new subjects before she can lead them into war. This might take time, but Morgana hopes that the process will be sped along with the help of Alyss, whom the kingdom adores. Alyss must remain close to her for this plan to succeed, but Morgana isn't worried about this. The girl adores her, taking her for the mother she never had.

The timid child peeks her head into the throne room, which is full of well-wishers and wedding attendees. The ceremony took place that morning and the rest of the day is now dedicated to festivities.

Alyss approaches the two thrones where Morgana and her father sit. She curtsies before presenting Morgana with a flower crown she'd made right after the wedding. Morgana smiles warmly at her and invites the child to place it upon her head, surrounding the real crown.

"Morgana, I'm so very happy!" Alyss tells her with a wide smile, "I—" but Obsidian cuts her off as a servant whispers something in his ear.

"Let us reconvene in the dining hall!" He announces, "A grand feast has been prepared to celebrate this most holiest of unions."

Morgana and Obsidius both stand, Obsidius taking Morgana's hand.

"After the feast." Morgana promises Alyss before being whisked away.

* * *

Guinevere, meanwhile, is left to run Camelot in Arthur's absence.

"Your Highness," A knight bows deeply before Guinevere. Behind him stand three other knights. The four of them have been tasked with searching for Morgana in this new world. "We believe we've found her."

"Where?"

"Just this morning, as we entered the low-lying villages of a kingdom called Espythia, we heard some merchants talking about the sudden marriage of their King to a woman matching Morgana's description. The time of her arrival matches perfectly the time of Arthur's return. We hurried back as soon as we heard."

"I feared she'd try to gain power in such a way. How far is this kingdom?"

"About a day's ride north of here."

"That's too close for comfort... If it is her and she has gained power, she could have an army upon us very quickly. Instruct the knights to maintain a constant lookout and to be ready in case of attack."

"Yes, your Highness." He bows again before leaving the throne room with the other knights. Guinevere stands and walks towards a window, peering outwards. Night has fallen and the sky is full of stars. She places a hand on her stomach and thinks of Arthur.

* * *

"Morgana?" Alyss has finally caught her alone. The feast has ended and it is nearly time for bed. Morgana is in the king's chambers, but Obsidius has not joined her yet. She smiles at Alyss as she approaches.

"Alyss," she greets her. She is surprised when the child wraps her arms around her. Morgana pats her back.

"I wanted to give you something, to welcome you to the family." Alyss starts slowly, "But I couldn't think of just the right thing. I went to market with one of the maids after the ceremony this morning. She helped me pick out just the right thing. At least, I really hope you'll like it." She presents her with a silver, heart-shaped locket. The front of the locket bears the inscription, ' _móðir._ '

"It's beautiful!" Morgana enthuses, genuinely touched.

"And I have one too!" Alyss shows her the locket around her own neck, which bears the inscription, ' _dóttir_.' "We'll always be together now, right?"

"Of course, sweet child." Morgana presses her lips to the girl's forehead. "I'm not going anywhere." Alyss hugs her once again. Morgana wraps her arms around the small girl, giving a slight squeeze.

Obsidius enters the chambers with eyes only for Morgana.

"Go to bed, Alyss." He says without looking away from his young wife's face.

"Goodnight, Mor—"

"Bed, Alyss!"

The young girl hurries from the room, closing the door behind her.


	19. Il Est Fait

A/N: Hallo, meine guten Freunde! I'm back to write another chapter (woohoo!). My roomies are very into Merlin now. We've just started season three. Marianne is still positive that Gaius will die. She thinks it's only logical since he's the wise old man character and those usually die (Dumbledore, Obi-Wan, Yoda). I'm not saying anything either way; I've been very careful not to spoil anything.

Additional A/N: I wrote the above note a few weeks ago. We're on season four now. I pointed out to them how Merlin's a man now and they gushed.

* * *

Obsidius strides over to Morgana and pushes her onto the bed.

"I've been waiting for this all day, my dear," he tells her. Morgana smiles demurely.

"And I as well," she replies, pulling him onto the bed next to her. He rolls onto her and is about to kiss her, but then she whispers a simple ' _sramaí_ ' and Obsidius falls into a deep sleep. She pushes him off her disgustedly. "Are you here, Drisdan?"

The assassin steps out from behind the curtain and approaches the bed. Without hesitation, he shoves his knife into the King's back. It pierces his heart and the Obsidius is dead. Drisdan steals the rings from his fingers, as well as the sack of gold found in his pockets. Morgana hands him an additional sack of gold she has stored in the room— the rest of his payment. She rises to her feet.

"You need to smack me across the face hard enough to leave a mark. I can't be under suspicion," Morgana tells him. Drisdan grins malevolently; he has not forgotten her treatment of him the night before. He smacks her across the face with all his force and is very pleased when it sends her flying into the wall. Morgana quickly regains composure and stands. Her lip is split open and bleeding, and a large bruise is already starting to form on her cheek.

"Now leave," Morgana tells him. "Through the window. Let yourself be seen as you leave the citadel; they must not think I'm lying. Go."

Drisdan bows and leaves through the window. Morgana starts to scream.

"Murder!" She cries and soon enough, guards rush into the room.

* * *

Gaius is tending to Merlin, who is not doing well. He is weak and on the brink of death. Gaius tries not to lose hope, but he knows what death looks like. He knows Merlin has very little time left.

It is morning now and rays of sunlight pour into the chambers. It is a rare sunny day in Camelot. One of Gaius's windows is open and he can hear the chatterings of passers-by below. He leaves Merlin's side briefly to look out the window. Nearly everyone seems to be out and about enjoying the weather. He can see a group of children who have started up a game of football with a ball they found. Everyone that Gaius can see in the streets looks quite merry today. None of them have any idea of the imminent threat Merlin's death would pose; without him to oppose Morgana, Camelot would surely fall.

There is a gentle knock at the door and then Guinevere enters.

"Good morning, Your Highness," Gaius greets her.

"Good morning. How is he?" She asks, walking over to Merlin.

"He's fading," Gaius tells her honestly, returning to Merlin's side. "He'll be gone by nightfall."

Gwen seizes his hands.

"We must not lose faith," she tells him earnestly. "Merlin is stronger than any of us. And Arthur will undoubtedly succeed in his quest and return to us with the flower. I am sure of it."

Gaius smiles subtly and squeezes her hands gently.

"I hope you are right."

Guinevere smiles sincerely. Then,

"There is something I'd like to tell you. Morgana has been crowned queen of a neighbouring kingdom. It is a day's ride north of Camelot."

Any semblance of a smile is now gone from Gaius's face.

"This is very troubling."

"Indeed."

"It would be very easy for her to attack the citadel."

Guinevere nods solemnly.

"The knights have been told to keep a constant lookout. When she chooses to attack, at least we'll know a little while in advance. It isn't much, but it's something. I'm sure Arthur will think of a defensive strategy once he returns."

"Hopefully he'll return today," Gaius says, looking at Merlin with fatherly affection, "for Merlin's sake."

Guinevere sits down in the chair next to Merlin.

"I'll sit with him for a bit. You should get some rest; you don't look like you've slept." Then, sensing his hesitancy, she adds: "I'll wake you if anything changes." Gaius hesitates a moment before nodding, bowing slightly.

"Thank you, Your Highness. That is very kind." Guinevere smiles at him and he goes to lie down in Merlin's room.

* * *

It has gone off without a hitch. Obsidius is dead and Morgana is beyond suspicion; everyone feels sympathy for the widowed Queen. Morgana has really played up her injury and keeps having rather well-timed fainting spells. Drisdan was, indeed, spotted fleeing. The royal advisers believe he is from an enemy kingdom; this narrative suits Morgana very well. The only concern Morgana has is for Alyss, who has not spoken a word since she being informed of her father's death. As soon as she has a spare moment, Morgana seeks Alyss out.

The young girl is sitting on a bench in one of the castle's gardens. She twirls a flower in her hands, a troubled expression on her face. Morgana approaches her.

"Alyss?" She asks, and the girl lifts her head. Morgana sits down next to her on the bench. "How are you?"

For a moment, Alyss doesn't reply and merely continues to twirl the flower. Then,

"Does it hurt?" She asks Morgana. "Your face, I mean."

"It... twinges a little." It is an understatement, but Morgana doesn't wish to worry the child.

"One of the maids said you fainted."

"Yes."

Alyss looks at her for a long moment, and it's a penetrating, searching look. Morgana gazes back at her, genuinely concerned for her. This concern masks her malevolence. Finally, Alyss speaks again:

"I guess this makes you the regnant now."

"Yes, it does. I don't know what I'm going to do... This is all so new to me," Morgana lies easily. "That's why I wanted to ask you if you'll help me."

"Help you?"

"Help me rule. Be my closest confidante, my own personal royal adviser. Be my best and closest friend."

Alyss stares at her, genuinely surprised.

"Me?"

"Yes, you."

"But I'm too young. Father never let me speak out of turn, much less advise him."

"Things can be a little different now," Morgana tells her. "It will be difficult, but maybe together we can lead this kingdom to prosperity. I can teach you and together we will be powerful enough to protect everyone in the kingdom."

Slowly, Alyss starts to nod. Morgana pulls her into a hug and is pleased when she wraps her thin arms around her.

"We can do this," Morgana assures her.

"Together?"

"Together."


	20. Le Rétablissement

A/N: Hello, folks! Sorry for the long delay in writing a new chapter; I'm in the process of writing exams and I had a particularly big exam yesterday that required all my time and effort in studying. It's a huge relief that it's done now. My roommates and I are nearly done watching Merlin. There are three episodes left and I need them to feel the pain that I felt at Arthur's death. Soon.

* * *

The brilliant sun has begun to set on the great kingdom of Camelot, and Merlin is in his death throes. Gaius tries to restrain his violent and uncontrolled movements. It is clear to him that Merlin is suffering a great deal. Guinevere is sitting by Merlin's head and is gently dabbing his forehead with a damp cloth. Merlin slowly settles into the bed and Gaius straightens.

"Rest, my dear boy," he murmurs softly. "Arthur will surely be back soon."

Merlin slowly opens his eyes and finds himself looking into Gwen's gentle eyes. He tries to speak, but no words come out.

"Merlin?" Gwen asks concernedly, setting the cloth aside and taking his hand. Merlin closes his eyes again for a long moment. Then, opening them:

"G-Gwen... Tell him I'm sorry..." It is an immense struggle to get the words out. As he speaks, the door to Gaius's chambers opens and in walks Arthur.

"Tell me yourself," Arthur says, hastening to Merlin's side. "Or don't because I don't want your apologies. You're going to live, Merlin." Merlin opens his eyes again with an effort and it takes him a moment to focus his eyes on Arthur. "I have the flower," Arthur tells him. "What do we have to do?"

"The... The dragon," Merlin breathes.

"Kilgharrah?"

"Aithusa."

Arthur frowns. "Is that not Morgana's dragon? I can't expect it will want to help us."

"Shh..." Merlin tries to sit up, but Gaius pushes him firmly—albeit gently—back down. "Bring me just outside of the walls," Merlin says. "You'll... You'll see..."

Arthur, having learned by this point to take Merlin at his word, promptly stoops to lift Merlin from the bed.

"I'll join you shortly, sire," says Gaius. "I'll gather some medical supplies that might be needed and I'll meet you outside of the city walls."

Arthur nods curtly and carries Merlin out of the physician's chambers. Arthur can't help but note that Merlin, whose eyes are closed once more, is completely limp in his arms. Merlin _will_ make it, he thinks. We've come so far; he _has_ to make it. Arthur speeds up his pace a little bit. In this fashion, the two soon make it outside of the city's walls. He carefully sets Merlin down.

"Now what?" He asks him, kneeling down next to him. Merlin opens his eyes with an effort. In a low, deep voice, he begins to summon Aithusa:

"O drakon, e male... so ftengometta... tesd'hup'anankes!" Then he exhales deeply and closes his eyes.

"Merlin?" Arthur shakes his shoulder. He receives no response. "Merlin, I forbid you to die." Still no response. Then from above comes the sound of flapping wings. Arthur looks up and espies the white dragon, who promptly lands before them. Arthur stands and approaches the dragon warily.

"I take it you have the flower?" Aithusa asks without any form of greeting.

"It's right here," Arthur says, taking the flower out of a small pouch attached to his belt.

"Hold it out to me."

Arthur does as told and the dragon exhales deeply onto the flower. As Aithusa does this, Gaius arrives and kneels next to Merlin.

"Mix this flower in a tincture of comfrey and berberine. It will heal both Emrys and the druids; they need only take a few drops," Aithusa instructs disinterestedly. "And when the sorcerer awakes, remind him that he made a promise to me."

"A promise?" Arthur asks. "What promise?"

"That is of no concern to you. I have done what he has asked and now he must follow through on his part. Remind him of that," Aithusa says before leaving without another word. Gaius, having brought some herbs with him, including those of comfrey and berberine, has already begun to mix the tincture.

"Arthur, the flower," Gaius says without looking up from his mixing. Arthur promptly hands him the flower, which he adds to the tincture. With the flower added, the tincture begins to glow. Gaius quickly pours a few drops in Merlin's mouth and waits for it to take effect. He takes Merlin's wrist in his withered fingers and feels for a pulse, which he finds though it is weak. And then, all at once, the pulse is gone.

"No..." Gaius stares down at Merlin in shock. "No, it can't be..."

"What is it?" Arthur asks quickly. "He's... He's not...?" But the look on Gaius face says everything. Tears well in the old physician's eyes. Arthur can only stare at the motionless body in shock. "No, he can't... Surely not Merlin..."

Arthur's heart begins to race and his mind is full of memories of the clumsy, stumbling, and immensely loyal friend whom he has never fully appreciated. Arthur's heart weighs heavily with regret. He ought to have thanked him more, been kinder to him. He should have given him time off; he should have expressed how grateful he was for Merlin's unwavering loyalty. He felt certain, now, that he could not proceed without Merlin. Hadn't Merlin been telling him just the other day how many times he, Merlin, had saved him, Arthur?

Arthur slowly falls to his knees.

"I mistreated him," he breathes. "He was and always has been the most loyal... I took him for granted, Gaius. I didn't know he... I never knew how much he..."

"Never knew you cared."

Arthur looks up, for it was not Gaius who had spoken but rather Merlin, who begins to sit up. His eyes widen and without thinking about it for even a second, Arthur bounds over to him and hugs him fiercely.

"Not so hard, not so hard," Merlin gasps out with a bit of a laugh. Arthur releases him.

"Merlin, you are never to do that again," he says strictly.

"What? Die?"

"Precisely."

Merlin laughs again. "You know, I might say the same thing to you."

"All right, fine. I won't die if you'll agree not to."

"Deal." The two shake on it, sharing a friendly—and in Arthur's case, relieved—grin. Arthur stands and offers a hand to Merlin, who takes it. Arthur pulls him to his feet, but he doesn't release the grip he has on Merlin's forearm.

"Merlin..." he begins to say, hesitating for only a moment. He wants to express just how grateful he is for everything Merlin has done for him; he wants to tell him how much he really does appreciate Merlin. He wants to thank him for always being there, for always being loyal, and for never abandoning him as so many have. Instead, all that comes out is simply, "Thank you."

But Merlin knows. Merlin knows all the meaning that is held in that 'thank you.'

"Of course, Arthur," Merlin replies just as simply.


End file.
